


From the Other Side

by OhMyGlobWhatthefrickamievendoing



Series: GN! MC x Mammon prompts [12]
Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Hurt/Comfort, No Plot/Plotless, Other, Post Lesson 40, Pre Halloween fic, Protective Mammon, Slight Future Fic, Spoilers, Tumblr Prompts, unnamed MC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:47:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27230707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhMyGlobWhatthefrickamievendoing/pseuds/OhMyGlobWhatthefrickamievendoing
Summary: Mammon and his human watch movies for Halloween and Mammon wonders what exactly is wrong with humans.
Relationships: Main Character & Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character/Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Reader, Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Series: GN! MC x Mammon prompts [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1854172
Comments: 21
Kudos: 177





	From the Other Side

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno Happy Pre Halloween I have a deadline tomorrow

He knocks.

Stares at the numbers on the door and knocks again. 

It feels strange, knocking. Mammon hasn't ever knocked before. Rarely for anyone else and never for them. But now he knocks and he waits. 

The door opens after the rattle of a chain and the click of a lock, thrown open by a familiar grinning human. 

"Yo." 

"Yo," they parrot back.

He knows they're both probably missing the mark for casual, try as they might, if the way his lips are wobbling or the way their eyes are shining are any indication. 

He lets his gaze roam over them, from the fuzzy slippers to the mess of their hair, as they move aside and let him in. They close and bolt the door behind, while he lets his eyes wonder around the room. It's small, possibly smaller than the House of Lamentation's ballroom, but bigger than their last place. Mammon had only been there the one time after he'd spent a week begging Lucifer to let him go, but it was hard to forget the cramped dark rooms and musty smell. The room he's let into now is lit warmly by the setting sun and - he sniffs the air - it smells of his human and - 

_"Who's that!?"_ He doesn't mean to growl as he rounds on them. But all they do is walk into a tiny adjoining kitchen with a fond roll of their eyes. _Beel would never fit in it,_ his brain says even as he continues to sniff the air. The new scent is human, soft and floral, not the witch who always smells like dried herbs and magic and sometimes Asmo's perfume. "Oi," Mammon snaps, stalking after them into the kitchen, "who _is_ that?" He sniffs the air again. They sniff it with him, as if their weak human senses could pick up the scent.

"Who's what," they ask as they turn to riffle through their cupboards.

He aims a gentle - _gentle, always gentle_ \- kick at their shin. "Don't ignore me, Dummy."

They catch his foot with theirs, easily, like they've done this a hundred times - _they have_ \- and tugs. He overbalances before he finds his footing and pinches their cheek, they move their head, quick as a whip, to bite his fingers. He jumps back with a yelp and a scowl and they cackle wickedly. 

"Jerk," he says. _I missed ya_ , he thinks.

"It's my roommate," they say, answering a question he had forgotten about, "they won't be here today."

They pull a pan and wooden spoon from the cupboard, before going to the fridge to pull out a bar of chocolate and milk. 

He watches them, leaning against the counter, wondering at how they'd so easily fallen back to their usual Friday night pre-movie routine.

"Why'd ya need a roommate," he asks, grumpily. "Ya didn't have one before." 

They shrug. "Times are hard." Their back is stiff as they light the cooker and break the slab of chocolate over the pan, letting the pieces fall into it. 

"No secrets, remember?" He remembers the alternate timeline, the promise, the hug, their determination to save his family, their body going cold in his arms before Barbatos had merged the two together. "Not when it's you and me."

Their shoulders hunch up and suddenly they look small, smaller than they've ever been before. They pour the milk into the pan, whisking it with the melting chocolate. "Was too quiet," they mumble.

Their shoulders have stiffened again as they stare at the pan with a single minded determination. He wants to scoop them up, wrap his hands around them and protect them. Wants to hiss and snarl at everything that's hurting them but if his brothers see he'd never hear the end of - _oh._ Mammon's heart breaks as he takes in the tiny kitchen they're standing in.

_They aren't home._

Mammon moves behind them, wrapping his arms around them, burying his nose in the back of their neck. They relax instantly. The hair at the nape of their neck tickles his nose as he breathes them in deeper, holds them tighter. Their right hand entwines with his, palm to palm over their stomach, their pact marks buzz with warm familiar magic at the contact. They raise their hands. He hears the soft clink of identical rings against each other, feels their lips press against the curve of his knuckles, the warm metal of his ring. 

Mammon sighs, pressing in closer to them.

The thick material of Beel's oversized jacket brushes against his cheek, the delicate links of a chain press against his lips. He knows if he tugs it out he'll see a pendant identical to the one Lucifer always wears. The ugly pull of possessive greed curls up in his stomach but he can't fault them. Not for this. Not for anything, if he's being honest with himself.

They off the stove, squeezing his hand till he reluctantly pulls back. They pull out two mugs from a cupboard, one of them's the custom one he'd given them when they'd first left the Devildom, the other's the matching pair of the one he has back home. He tries to discreetly sniffle. He doesn't think it works but they don't mention it, they never do.

They pass him their half from the incomplete pair, "You sure you wanna do this?" Their mood seems to have improved with the first sip of hot chocolate, even as it burns their tongue and makes them huff and fan their mouth.

Their nails are still the same colour Asmo always picked out for them, "Pffft, yeah! You think ya puny human movies can scare The Great Mammon!? I'm a demon remember! The second oldest and the Avatar of Greed!"

They smile with too much teeth and a glint in their eyes that looks positively evil. _Fuck, he missed them._

They lead him back to their small living room, snagging packs of chips on the way. They gently toss a headset that's eerily similar to Levi's newest one on a chair next to a pile of books that are too old to belong to a human.

They place the snacks on the couch and their cup on the coffee table before crouching down by an old dusty looking DVD player by the TV.

"Cup on the table, we don't really care about stains. It's old as shit and Lucifer's not here to tan my hide."

"Lucky," he snorts. They both know he's lying.

"You sure you wanna do this? We can always watch the Lion King? You'll like it."

"OI! The Great Mammon ain't a coward! It's Halloween week so we've watching the dumb movie!"

"Right! Right! Sorry, _oh Great Mammon."_

"Damn right, ya should be!"

They slid the DVD in, picking up the remote and pausing it before it can start.

He's already pushing the couch around so the back faces the TV when they come back. He watches from the corner of his eye as they push the coffee table to a corner and mumble a spell under their breaths, hand passing over the steaming mugs.

"It'll keep it warm," they say, turning to leave, presumably to their room.

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead. The move had been easy and natural as if they'd been practicing magic their whole life, as if they were born in to it, when in reality it was a certain sneaky sorcerer who had been giving them a crash course in magic. He wonders briefly, as he strips the couches and chairs of their cushions, if their easy mastery of magic, where even he failed after thousands upon thousands of years, spoke more of their raw power or Solomon's skill.

They come back, arms laden with blankets and pillows that they dump on his head, chasing all thoughts of magic as he immediately tackles them to the ground. He makes sure his hand cups their head as they fall, even as they try to wind a leg around him and flip them over. 

One impromptu wrestling match later they're stacking pillows and cushions, draping and tucking blankets over them and the backs of the turned couch and chairs, making a cozy little alcove in front of the TV. It's barely big enough for the two of them, made even smaller by the pillow and large blanket the human tucks inside it while Mammon grabs the snacks and steaming hot cups. But they manage, they always have, curled up together, he passes them their mug and settles in beside them.

His human throws a large blanket that smelt just vaguely of Belphie over them.

"It's animated," he says with a disbelieving scoff when the movie started once again.

They hum, sounding extremely pleased with themself, "Yup."

* * *

His teeth clamp down on his tongue with a fierce force to stiffle the scream. That doesn't stop his whole body from jumping though, or from latching on to the human next to him.

"We can switch anytime you want," they say soothingly, seemingly genuinely. Whatever sadistic glee they'd gained through his initial reactions seems to have waned. They never were able to hold on to it for very long, at least not where Mammon was involved. 

He shakes his head vigorously, watching the TV with wide eyes from his position tucked into their side, face semi buried in the crook of their neck. 

"N-nah, 's just-t so-some silly hu-hu-human cart-oon-n. 'M not sc-scared."

They thread a hand through his hair as he shrieked and jumped again.

"Th-the fuc-k's wrong-ng with ya h-h-humans!? Not t-that I'm s-cared-d but-t-t th-this is fer kids-s-s?"

"Long story," they say calmly, patting his back as he yelped again.

"F-FUCK!"

"We can sto-"

"NO!"

* * *

He stared at his wide eyed reflection in the blank screen.

"Wh-what the actual FUCK was that."

"A cinematic masterpiece?"

"Do - do humans let their brats watch that as some, some kinda initiation? A test? Survival of the fittest? Hardenin' their Psyche?"

"...nope."

He turns to look at them. "Y'all are messed up." He shudders rubbing cautiously at his eyes.

"Lion King," they ask through a yawn.

"This one actually age appropriate?"

"...eh, just don't think about it too hard."

* * *

He's not crying.

He's definitely not crying.

He had not cried during seven different incidents throughout the first film and he's definitely not crying now as Kiara and Kovu are finally accepted into the pride. 

Mammon sniffles loudly as the credits roll and as the human snuggled up against him gives a grunting snore and quiets down again. He pauses the TV then, turning to stare at the top of their head and blows at their hair just to see it ruffle. They whine and twist closer. 

Three movies, three bags of chips and two cups of hot chocolate each - it's well into the night and dinner's not happening.

He shifts, pulling both them and Belphie's blanket over him as he lies back within their fortress. He tucks the blanket as well as he can around them and hugs them protectively to his chest.

Even with the bright colours of Simba's pride dancing across his eyelids he can't seem to drown out the dark colours or strange designs of that first film. Not in the dark of the room and definitely not back in the Devildom with its perpetually dark skies and large Gothic house and secret passages in said house and sadistic controlling parental figure and - Mammon shudders - abundance of buttons. He was just fine and perfectly happy here, even with his human constantly shifting on top of him and digging sharp elbows into his ribs.

He was fine.

He was happy.

He always was with them.

He opens his mouth, wetting his lips. He wants to say those words, those three simple words that he's said to them before. Those three simple words that get stuck in his throat even while they sleep.

"I love you," they sigh, still asleep "Mammon."

Mammon's breath hitches.

His face flushes.

_Stupid. Stupid._

They've said it before. Whispered it to him just a handful of times but pressed it into his skin, burnt it into his soul, in the form of soft kisses and softer praise and loving eyes and small gifts and their smile whenever they see him, hundreds upon hundreds, thousands upon thousands of times. _And by that right he should know it._ But it still hurts, so thoroughly, painfully and beautifully. Still surprises him so genuinely each time he hears it.

They love him. And he loves them and tomorrow he'll have to go back to the Devildom with its perpetually dark skies and large Gothic house and secret passages in said house and sadistic controlling parental figure, all which he loves to death and back. All which he'd never leave no matter how much he wanted to stay by their side.

But for tonight, for tonight he can stay with them, for tonight it can be how it was, how it should be and how it shall be again one day in the future.

For tonight he can stay by them and tell them, even if it's only while they sleep.

His breath hitches again, he opens his mouth, ready to finally say it -

"S'rry the Oth'r Moth'r made y'r cry," they say, still asleep.

"I hate you," he says. _I love_ _you,_ he thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> This is all over the place :)))) 
> 
> The two mugs, matching rings, books, headset and matching chains/pendents are all things MC is given throughout the canon storyline
> 
> Leave a comment and I'll fight God for you. <3


End file.
